


Liar, You Burn Me Worse than Fire

by LadyOfTheOldWorld



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, I process by writing, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 06:58:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18987595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOfTheOldWorld/pseuds/LadyOfTheOldWorld
Summary: It was like crashing in slow-motion.





	Liar, You Burn Me Worse than Fire

**Author's Note:**

> ...I don't even know what to say. Enjoy, I suppose.

She had woken up with the intention of writing.

Her muse had been finicky and fickle, of late, here for somethings and nowhere to be found for others. Of course, such was just the way a writer’s mind worked, and she had to admit that she had been putting off a few things intentionally until she could find the words that felt right. That said, writing was her day job, so it didn’t really matter so long as she got things done eventually – or, that was how she saw it, anyway. As it was Sunday, she neglected to reach for her phone immediately; her partner was busy, and bothering him wasn’t something she exactly relished the idea of, just then. Instead, she unplugged it from the charger, and shoved it into the pocket of the oversized hoodie she had worn to bed. Getting up, shoving tiny feet into slippers was literally the first thing she did, her floors cold against her bare skin. Stepping into the bathroom to attempt to run a brush through her wild, mint green hair, she quickly gave up, pulling the majority into a bun instead.

Making her way downstairs, the tiny woman made a beeline for the kitchen. Coffee was quickly made, and after throwing wide the curtains on her floor-to-ceiling windows, she settled at her desk. While her two computers turned on (one for writing and one for research), she leaned back in her chair and swiped at her phone to unlock it. She would much rather have preferred a flip-phone, as touch screens annoyed her and made her vision bug out, but her partner had impressed upon her that having this kind of phone was better. As she picked up her coffee with one hand to sip at it, she realized that she had an unread message. Who in the world would have texted her so early? The sun had just risen a few minutes ago, the clock reading hardly past seven. Seeing that it was from her partner just made her frown even more. He had said he would be occupied all weekend, but that he would call her if he could, so this was undeniably odd. She tapped the screen to open the message.

_I feel it would be in out best interests to take a step back from one another._

The coffee cup slipped from her hand, shattering as it hit the floor, but she didn’t even care.

_We’re too different. I feel we would be best served to be colleagues rather than romantically involved._

Her chest felt tight, green eyes going wide behind her glasses, hands shaking as she continued to read. By this point, however, only single words registered.

 _Closed off_.

 _Emotionless_.

 _Unstable_.

 _Unsupportive_.

 _Uninterested_.

Tears blurring her vision, she could feel months and weeks and days and hours and minutes and second unraveling around her. Plans and dreams and hopes breaking into pieces. She could hardly breathe, but still she forced her fingers to work, forced herself to type the only response she could possibly think to give. She felt numb and as if she were going to shatter all in the same breath.

_Could we talk about this?_

A few moments passed, her breathing becoming harder, shallower. Her phone vibrated.

_There is nothing to talk about. You won’t change my mind._

She wanted to scream, but couldn’t make a sound. How she continued typing was anyone’s guess.

_Okay. I’m sorry._

This response came quicker. _Don’t apologize. It won’t help._

Neither of them said anything else.

After a few moments of crying to herself, the rage finally set in. She threw her phone so hard at the wall that it shattered, screaming wordlessly as she dropped to her knees, hands gripping and tearing at her hair. She couldn’t have said how long she simply cried sobbed and screamed, rocking back and forth on the floor, clawing at herself. It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours. Her sense of anything but the pain and the anger and the betrayal was completely gone. She screamed until her throat burned, but then just kept screaming. Somehow, her voice didn’t give out entirely, and at some point, she ended up curled into a ball rather than on her knees.

“You promised you wouldn’t leave me,” she whimpered, knowing no-one would hear or care.

She cried until she passed out, still in a crumpled heap on the floor.


End file.
